


Winter

by archerkink (runawaygirl)



Series: Boys Flirting [2]
Category: DCU (Animated), Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Flirting, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-16
Updated: 2013-11-16
Packaged: 2018-01-01 19:03:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1047477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runawaygirl/pseuds/archerkink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dedicated to Dakota, for her patience with me and my terrible updating habits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [les-eaux](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=les-eaux).



\--

Tim makes sure he bundles himself up in as many layers as he can manage before setting out of the manor. It’s still surreal that he has his own room, and that Jason is currently curled up in his bed because, according to him, patrol gave him frostbite and he needed Tim’s body heat had to thaw himself out. _(“And Dick’s a nuisance to sleep with, he hogs most of th’bed, and I wake up with like six arms around me-_ ”)

He’d still been asleep when Tim had gotten a text from Roy’s number, an impromptu date. The first that wasn’t a patrol-date since he’d moved into Dinah’s flower shop.

Alfred had been about to leave for the city and offered Tim a lift. ‘Last minute Christmas shopping’, he’d said with a small, mysterious smile. After they’d lapsed into a comfortable silence, Tim’s phone buzzes again. Half-expecting Roy, Tim is surprised when the text message staring back at him was from Bruce.

‘ _Tim. Decided to give you your present early, since you missed the last two Christmases.’_

Tim snorts and doesn’t text back that Bruce himself had missed the same Christmases _he’d_ missed. He receives another text just as he’s making his way to the square, listing a safehouse location. He sees Roy shuffling from foot to foot in an attempt to get warm. Tim presses his lips together to suppress the goofy grin threatening to split his face in two.

He tugs on Roy’s elbow. “Hey.”

Roy’s cheeks are pink. “Hey.” Unlike Tim, he doesn’t bother hiding the grin. “Cute nose, Rudolph.”

Tim flushes. “Shut up.” he ducks the bottom of his face into his scarf.

He inhales when Roy inches closer and drops a kiss onto the tip of nose. His resolve crumbles and he’s reduced to biting his lip to stop the smile, and fails. Roy laughs at him even as he rolls his eyes. Roy links his hands behind his waist. 

“Hi.” He says quietly.

“Hi.” Tim says faintly. He clears his throat. “So, B left me a present.”

“Oh really?”

“Mm. Come with me?”

“‘Course.”

\--

Tim lets a soft ‘Ohh’ fall from his mouth when he sees the bright red ducati waiting for him in the centre of the equipment room. Bruce had gone all out on presentation, there was a lit platform in the middle of the room and spotlights on the bike itself.

The odd thing is, Tim doesn’t remember mentioning the duc he’d pilfered during his time with the League or its demise. Behind him, Roy whistles. “Batdad goes all out, doesn’t he?”

Once Tim gets feeling back in his legs, he steps up onto the lit platform and puts a hand on the gas tank, traces a line down past the seat to the pillion, then back up to the handlebar. He swallows thickly. “I just-I just need to...” he’s aware of Roy falling dead silent behind him as he straddles the bike. 

He revs the engine and lets out a delighted little noise when the machine comes to life underneath him. He revs harder and laughs. “Holy shit.” he says out loud. There’re no modifications, so it’s pointedly not a batbike- which doesn’t mean he can’t make modifications of his _own_. “I- Roy, we have to take her out for a ride, I’m-”

He glances up and Roy’s face is as red as his hair. He coughs into his sleeve, and turns around, suddenly very interested in the batarangs along the wall. “Sure, runt. I’m up for a ride.”

Tim frowns. “Are you okay?”

“Who, me?” Roy grins over his should, still pink. “Yeah, I’m great.” 

Another flash of red catches his eye, and Tim hops off his bike to examine the helmets propped up on the wall. One’s the same red as the bike. The other-

“Looks like B left you a present, too.” Tim smirks, holding up the black helmet decorated with a red gift bow. “Now, come on. I want to test her in Gotham traffic.”

“But, _Red_. I _always_ get the bitch seat.”

\--

_‘How much alcohol is too much in eggnog?’_

Roy snickers and texts back. ‘Just how drunk is Jason?’

Half a minute later, he gets, _‘Not very.’_ and _‘It’s Dick I’m worried about.’_

Roy smiles at his phone, then jolts and fumbles when Dinah drop a bag of takeout in front of him. “Uhh, hey. So the place was open?”

“Yup.” She sits down opposite him and starts taking off her shoes. Roy texts Tim a quick ‘ttyl’ and shoves his phone into his pocket. She smirks broadly. “Boyfriend?”

Roy bristles, fighting to keep the smile off his face. “Shut up.”

“Isn’t Tim Jewish, by the way?”

“Yeah. Not a practicing one, though. His parents never really...i’unno, enforce anything like that.” he says quietly.

“Ahh.” Dinah answers, digging the food cartons out of the plastic bag. 

They eat in silence for a few minutes before Roy quietly says. “He’s nervous.” Dinah frowns. “Well, he keeps texting me. And to be honest, I don’t think he’s...” Roy shakes his head. “I dunno, had a Christmas with family and junk? I mean, he still hasn’t told me about his parents.”

And it’s amazing how Dinah can slip into motherly therapist so easily, even with some sauce at the corner of her mouth. “Give it time, okay? I’m sure if it’s bothering him, he’ll tell you.”

Roy shrugs. Dinah covers his free hand, his flesh hand with hers. “From what I can see, Roy, I think you’re both a little bit nervous.” 

The redhead fidgets a little under her gaze. “So, uhh. You’re spending New Year’s in Star City?” Deliberate subject change, but hey, it’s Christmas. Dinah can cut him _some_ slack.

“I am. I’ll be back in a week, though. You’ll behave until then?”

“When I do I _not_ behave?” Roy beams. Dinah snorts.

“So, do you have any plans for New Year’s, Roy?”

Pulling his hood up would be suspicious, but he can’t exactly stop the way his ears are lighting up. “Yeah, actually.” He says nonchalantly. He’s proud of the way his voice doesn’t waver but Dinah’s lips twist at the corners ever so slightly.

“As long as you clean the apartment up afterwards--“

“Oh my god, Dinah, I _hate_ you--“

\--

Jason’s curled up against Bruce’s side, sound asleep. Tim’s pretty sure he hadn’t slept at all last night, even if he kept saying Christmas was ‘no big deal.’ When he’d found Jayce this morning, he’d already started on one of his presents, shaking and pressing his ear against the box. He’d looked like a deer caught in headlights when when he spotted Tim. 

He snores a little and curls around Bruce’s bicep. Bruce himself looks at peace, holding a mug in both hands, Jayce’s new boxing gloves resting on his thigh. He’s wearing the watch Tim had gotten him on his left wrist. Tim swears he’s seen the man tear up once or twice today.

Tim moves as quietly as possible to not disturb the scene, to go check on Dick and Alfred in the kitchen. Dick’s sitting on the counter, leaning back against the wall while Alfred’s just topping off the pudding he’d made. In another ten minutes or so, they’d be called to the table.

Tim finds himself hesitating, once again thinking about how surreal it is. He’d never had a Christmas quite like this. Not ever this warm or sweet. There had been more heart-to-hearts today than he usually gets all year round.

It’d made him nervous, even as he was texting Roy earlier on.

“You alright, Dick?” Tim asks.

Dick’s eyes open and he smiles. “Yeah, Timmy, I’m fine.” he says, smiling. “Sorry, Alfie, I think I might’ve messed up the eggnog.”

“No one can say you didn’t try, sir.” Alfred says primly. He covers the pudding and takes the tray. “Please collect Master Bruce and Master Jay for dinner in ten minutes.”

“Okay, Alfred.” Tim says. The butler nods his head and leaves. 

“Timmy.” Dick says. Tim looks up, and the older is smiling ruefully at him. “Little brother, you’re so brave--“

“Dick-“ Tim tries to cut him off, but he’s not having any of it. He hops off the counter with too much grace for someone who’s had _that_ much eggnog. 

“ _No_. No, just--“ Dick scrubs a hand down his face, and his eyes water even as he’s smiling. “I just wanted to say that I’m so, _so_ sorry, little brother, for not believing you when you told me Bruce was alive.”

“Dick, you don’t need to--“

“And you did so good, little brother, you’re so brave, you went out on your own, and you didn’t have any physical proof until later on, you just kept going because _you_ knew he was alive, and even though,” Dick’s voice cracks and the tears leak out the corners of his eyes. “And even though _I had to spend the last two Christmases alone,_ it’s all _worth_ it because you didn’t just find _Bruce_ , you found _Jason_ too.”

For the first time, Tim feels horribly, disgustingly guilty about leaving. It’s an ache that starts in his chest and works his way up through his lung and throat and back and shoulders and neck. He feels so small, and Dick’s still smiling and crying, and looking at him like he’s the best thing that ever happened to him. He wants to run, but his legs don’t feel like they’re there any more. When he finds his voice, all that comes out is a strangled, “Dick, I’m so _sorry_ \--”

His knees start to buckle and Dick steadies him, presses him to his chest and starts stroking his back and kissing his head. Tim’s aware that he’s shaking, that he can’t speak around the lump in his throat and can’t find the air to breathe, even as Dick’s rocking them and whispering soothing words into his hair.

“I love you, you know?” Dick says, his voice calm. “I didn’t mean to make you upset. What a Bruce move, huh?” he laughs softly.

Tim doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move. Dick starts to pull away and he panics, stiffened and clutches at the back of Dick’s sweater. Tim doesn’t look up to see his expression because he’s fairly certain that Dick’s going to feel the dampness through the material any second now and he’s not- he’s not-

“I got you, Timmy. Okay?” Dick strokes his hair.

\--

It’s nearly two in the morning when Roy gets a phonecall. Dinah’s out on a light patrol, and she’d insisted the he stayed behind. Something about not working on Christmas. He answers. “Hey.”

“Hi.” Tim sounds tired. “Happy Christmas.”

Roy smiles. “I think you mean Happy Day-After-Christmas.”

Tim hums. “That, then. Did I wake you?”

“Not at all. How are you, baby?”

“‘Baby’?”

Roy grins. “How d’you like it?”

“Better than ‘runt’, I suppose.”

Well. That’s certainly interesting. “So, can I keep it?”

He hears Tim laugh. “We can give it a trial run. Like ‘Honey’ and ‘Sugar’.”

“Well, have you come up with one for me yet, baby?"

Tim laughs again, and Roy can almost imagine that little thing he does where he tries to violently crush his dorky smile before they reach his lips. “Not yet. I’ll let you know.” There’s a pause where Roy just listens to Tim breathe on the other end of the line. “Uh. Are we still meeting up? For, uh. New Year’s?”

“Yeah?” Roy furrows his brow. Did something change when he wasn’t looking?

“Oh, okay. Good.” Tim pauses again. “Hey, Roy?”

“Yeah, Tim?” Roy feels the hair on the back of his neck rise. 

Tim stutters. “It’s just. I’m-uhh-”

“Are you okay? Is something--“

“I love you? I-I mean--“ Tim breathes. “I love you. I know it’s soon, I just. Wanted to say it.”

Roy gapes. 

“Okay. Uhh, Goodnight. See you later.” 

It takes a few rings for Roy to wake up. He’s really glad Dinah’s not in to see the helplessly wide grin plastered on his face. Does he call Tim back? He’d be awake. Only, no, because he probably wouldn’t pick up.

He settles for a text, practically bouncing on the heels of his feet while typing.

\--

Roy might have been a little overeager after that. He’ll be the first to admit it, since here he was, standing in front of one of the brownstones Bruce Wayne owned. An hour and a half earlier than Tim was expecting him. He kind of hoped the runt was alone. He didn’t want anyone staring him down or coming off as pushy. Batman already didn’t like him.

But then again, Batman doesn’t really like _anyone_.

The door swing open and Roy comes face-to-face with a wide-eyed, hoodie-clad Tim. Roy grins. “Hi,” and has neither the tact nor the will to resist any more, and presses his mouth against Tim’s.

He hadn’t counted on Tim’s lip being so surprisingly warm. Or maybe his own lips were a lot colder than he thought? Either way, he meets a delicate sort of resistance when he tries to pull away. Tim’s eyes widen in surprise.

Their lips are stuck together. Tim groans, and Roy feels it vibrate through him.

“It’s like,” he says against Tim’s lips. “Getting your tongue stuck on a _cold pole._ ”

Tim hits his side. “Don’t.” he says, careful his lips don’t tear. Roy put a hand on the back of Tim’s head and holds him there while he carefully tries to thaw his way through the problem. It helps that Tim’s entire face heats when he feels Roy’s tongue slip out of his mouth and start licking and rubbing at his lips.

They pull apart with a muffled pop, and Tim immediately brings a sleeve up to his red face in last ditch attempt to just hide. Roy smile sheepishly. He hasn’t gotten him to flush so completely since-

Since years ago, when Tim only responded to Roy’s constant teasing with stammers and glowers. 

“You’re early.” Tim mumbles.

“I’m early.” Roy concedes.

“I need to shower. And uhh, get dressed.”

“Sure, can I wait here?” He smirks and licks his lips. “And mind if I have that hot chocolate you were drinking before I got here?”

“ _Asshole_.”

\--

Tim hasn’t said a word about his confession on the phone, but he figures he doesn’t have to, since Roy can’t seem to stop smiling at him. He wonders if he knows how obvious he’s being.

Of course, Tim’s being just as obvious, when he forgoes his cowl for one of Jason’s spare capes and his old mask with the eyelets. Roy doesn’t say anything about it. He doesn’t even say anything when Tim has him follow him to the top of Wayne Tower.

Arsenal whistles. “Nice view.”

Red Robin hums. “This is the highest point this side of Gotham.” 

“Who says I was talking about Gotham?”

Red Robin rolls his eyes and glances behind him. He sits on the ledge of the building, facing Arsenal. “There’s gonna be fireworks in the Square below. Jayce is down there with B already.”

The redhead takes a seat beside him and rests a thigh up on the ledge. He smiles in Tim’s face. “Hi.” His breath smells like spearmint and Tim snorts softly. Looks like he wasn’t the only one being obvious. Below them, crowds are gathered, lights left over from Christmas are bright and there’s some commotion from the people Tim supposes are in charge of the fireworks display.

“Two minutes,” Roy informs him, and even in the dim lighting and freezing weather, Tim can see faint freckles on his skin and feel warmth radiate off him and thinks maybe he’s not completely pathetic for arranging this entire thing.

(Dick had been holding back peels of laughter, even as Tim ignored him as hard he could)

The crowd below starts chanting and Tim feels his heart race. His palms start to sweat in his gloves and he’s painfully aware of Roy’s eyes on his, his knee pressed up against his thigh, and his own ridiculously chapped lips.

Tim wets them nervously when the crowd reaches _10,_ and Roy’s expression falters momentarily. Just as the irrational notion that he’s somehow messed up settles in, Roy blurts out, “Come home with me.”

His eyes widen. “What?” he sounds breathless to his own ears, even over the crowd below chanting _8, 7, 6..._

“Please?” Roy’s voice is barely above a whisper. _5, 4..._

Tim gapes. Bruce isn’t expecting him to patrol tonight, Nightwing and Batgirl are sharing the skies, and Batman is joining them later-

_3, 2,_

Roy’s face looks so earnest and achy--

_1-_

Tim lurches forward and presses his mouth against Roy’s, fumbling to get a grip on Arsenal’s shirt. His prosthetic is hard and cool against the hot skin of Tim’s neck. Tim pulls back and presses his forehead against Roy’s, breathing hard. The crowd is a muffled roar beneath them.

“Okay.” Tim says and smiles when Roy’s breath visibly hitches.

\--

Tim wakes up again in the early hours of the morning, pleasantly cool instead for once. Roy’s quiet snoring soothes him, and he twists carefully so he can face his half-sprawled form and make his head comfortable on Roy’s shoulder.

He huffs out a laugh when he sees the marks that litter Roy’s throat and shoulders and feels an odd sense of pride that he’d caused them. The redhead shifts and mumbles.

Tim presses a kiss to the side of Roy’s jaw, then another to the side of his neck. Roy starts to shift awake, blinking his eyes open and turning his head. He smiles, squinting a little. “Mmm, time is it?” he asks, voice sleep-rough and gravelly.

Tim kisses his chin. “Early.”

Roy growls, whole chest vibrating as he turns over and cradles him with his body. Tim shivers when his cold prosthetic presses against his back, and it registers then just how many clothes he _doesn’t_ currently have on.

“Hi, baby,” he purrs, grinning obnoxiously, bumping his nose against Tim’s

Tim rolls his eyes. “Hi, yourself. Happy New Year.” 

Roy snickers. “Happy New Year.” He lets his eyes fall shut, and Tim curls up against him, ready to follow suit. “Hey, Tim? 

“Mm?”

“Wanna go steady?”

Face burning, Tim swats his side. “You are _such_ an _asshole._ ”

\--


End file.
